


Good Wife

by Nebulaeyedfish



Category: jacksepticeye
Genre: 3 am crying sesh on the couch, AGAIN?, Alcohol, Chase is just Very Sad, Henrik is Pretty Fucking Bi, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Pre-Bro Average, Song fic, Stream of Consciousness, aparantly i can only write based off of Mika songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 04:42:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16906293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulaeyedfish/pseuds/Nebulaeyedfish
Summary: Henrik doesn't hate easily, but seeing Chase in this state hurts him desperately. She doesn't deserve him.(could he?)





	Good Wife

**Author's Note:**

> If no one else is posting for this ship then I WILL

 

Reaching for his coffee, Schneeplestien frowned at the medical journal in front of him, wishing that the words would just fucking stay put and let him study them. A quick sip him that not only had it gone cold since the last one, but he was also out. Grumbling, he pushed himself up from his desk, sparing only a cursory glance at the clock by his bed who’s LED display cheerfully told him it was in fact ass o’clock in the morning, and that at the rate he had been working, he wouldn't be finished until at least dawn. Thumping the old coffee maker a few times to get it started, he gazed blankly at the wall while it whired and filled the air with the bitter smell of cheap coffee, eyes drifting over a medical poster above his couch. He nearly missed the gentle knocks when they came, masked as they were by the machine next to him, jumping when his tired brain finally processed them.

 

Outside stood Chase, staring blankly through Henrik, a pink tinge to his eyes, and a shine to his cheeks. Fretting with the hat in his hands, he bit his lip slightly in a way that nearly broke Henrik’s heart.

“Chase? What’s the matter?” Chase shook his head mutely, unusually dull eyes darting down to the floor. Henrik stepped back, beckoning him over to the couch. While Chase sank down, hands tapping out an erratic pattern on his knees, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and some glasses from a draw. “Well,” he said, setting himself next to his friend and passing him a drink. “Tell me everything, hm?” And with as little coaxing as this, Chase downed the whiskey and broke down, telling him everything, until he was sobbing into Henrik’s shoulder, while he rubbed soothing circles into his back, soul aching with their touch.

 

It went like this: Stacey had left. She’d phoned him during filming. Told him she wanted a divorce, that she was staying at her sister’s and wasn’t coming back. Henrik couldn’t say he was surprised; Stacey had always struck him as angry and dissatisfied with her lot in life, sniping at everyone every chance she got, trying- or so it seemed- to make anyone around her as miserable as she was. It was like a wound, a stab to his chest to see her treat Chase so badly. She didn’t deserve him. 

 

But Chase, Chase was enamoured by her still, even after eleven fairly unhappy years of marriage, so Henrik put up with her, ignoring her remarks on his own failed marriage and medical degree, or his spotty English, regardless of his desire to scream at her, and keep Chase as far from her as possible. She’d found someone new, he’d said, someone more ‘dependable’ (and really, who was there more dependable than Chase? More faithful and caring, and big hearted? Who was there, more willing to help, more full of love, than Chase?) which presumably meant more well off; a lawyer, most likely. Objectively, Henrik could see her side- she’d rushed into a relationship at 18, wed after only a few months. He could understand that, relate to it even. Hell, he’d done something similar, hadn’t he? But that didn't excuse it. It didn’t make it all better, all her barbed words and petty fits. It didn’t justify her treatment of his friend, not even remotely.

 

As Chase told him between sobs she was taking the kids, he made sympathetic noises, taking another swig of whiskey and passing it back to Chase, thinking of his own daughter. He hadn’t seen her for several months; her mother had moved them away, and he struggled to visit, though they talked often. He understood, he assured him, accent thicker with whiskey and empathy, he knew what he was going through. When his ex had gone off with Rick, it had surprised him how fast he’d moved on, how fast he’d released her. Henrik had loved her, of course, but he knew that she hadn’t loved him by the end, and he was disappointed to find that despite what he’d thought, he hadn’t either. The anger he felt now was nothing compared to the pain he’d felt then; a raging bonfire to a candle.

 

“She doesn’t know how lucky she was,” He insists. “Anyone would be lucky to have you and she threw it away, my friend. You’re too good for her, she makes a mistake. You deserve better, someone who’d treat you right!” 

‘Like me’, he doesn’t say.

“But she’s my soulmate.” Chase looked forlornly at his wedding ring, twisting it around his finger. “I love her, Schneeps. I love her like I couldn’t love anyone else.” Ignoring the pain that wringed his chest, Henrik squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

“I know, Chase” he soothed. “I know.”

 

As they leant against each other, Henrik listened to the rhythm of Chase’s breath, feeling his body rise and fall against him. An ocean of emotion and wishes churned in his stomach as they shared the moment, whispering to him, urging him to lean in and kiss him, to stroke his chestnut hair and tell he he deserved so much more, deserved to be treated with decency and respect, that he deserves love, that he was loved, that he-

 

That he loved him.

 

But he didn’t. Because that wasn’t what Chase needed right now. Because that wasn’t what Chase wanted. He understood. That was fine. So he sat, and said nothing, and did nothing, and let Chase cry for the worst woman in the world , while he silently mourned that in this life he could not be the wife Chase wanted. As they breathed in sync, they slid into the pool of sleep together, close, in tandem. But when he woke, stiff and groggy, Henrik was alone.

 

He gets a phone call, later that day, as he waits for the coffee machine to wheese out another mug as he takes a break from his work; a call which freezes his blood and stills his heart, pushing him out his room and towards the hospital, cursing her name in a mangled stream of German and English.

**Author's Note:**

> The title's from "Good Wife" by Mika, because I can not get enough of this man's music. If you havent heard it, give it a listen, it's got very strong Schneeplebro vibes. Its about a man in comforting his best friend whom he loves after his wife left him, and its very good.


End file.
